Just a write up

Stealth silence, quietness … zero noise. At a place of tranquility with no sudden movements or flashing lights. There I find my cool. While you go for punching bags filled with hard sand, bruising your soft skin and hurting your muscles I go to my room and hid in the comfort of my soft and cozy bed. When you are tired and panting after throwing unrewarded blows and punches, I am gaining my cool taking my yoga trained breath … iiinn - out, iiinn - out. Deep, controlled and necessary breath which recycles life in my organism for a healthy living.

I do not understand anger. I do not know what rage is. I am human and I am a master of my feelings. Trees get swayed in fast wind, flowers blossom at the balance of fertility of the pot’s soil and surrounding weather. I am human. I am my dominant and I choose when to turn right or left. I choose to detest you, when to like you and how to quit without ever getting lured to gaze back. 

Is it short memory? Am I a retard with no feelings or am I just stronger than most. When you pulled my hair yesterday I felt pain, physical pain. You know the kind a high school teacher would waste a whole two hours’ lesson explaining; tendons, nerve system and how pain information is relayed to the brain. You felt proud and had to share your win with friends and scams. It was painful then, now it is not. 

Today you brood in your little corner afraid to face the supposed bald headed me. Your yesterday’s win is now your shame and guilt. You claim anger and as you throw your fiddle bones to stock dead sand compacted in a rough bag, here I am taking my cereals at the warmth of my protectorate, cloud nine.

The Hilarious ‘Bakora’

Rarely can pain be described as hilarious. As a child sometimes Angeline, my mother, would whip me on the back, two hard ones which always came as a surprise. You can imagine the reaction; first I go low, take a hard kick to dive forward into dash at top speed. After a few steps I always took a quick look at my tormentor, a look that would inform how far I would run and if I would keep accelerating on or do the zigzag hare-kind of a run which she would not keep up with.

This was painful, terribly painful, but still someone looking from a distance would find it hilarious. By then, I would think of them as mean red necks, irreligious and wished them a fourth cross for a painful crucifixion. Ha! Ha! Ha! Today I saw a senior political figure get caned and it was hilarious. Two quick ones, just like my mothers, on the back! Ha! Ha! Ha! And from Baba’s reaction I can only imagine how painful it must have been.

Autobiographical faith statement

Nixon Gargan Mbajah

+254 726-508-709

My name is Nixon Gargan Mbajah, Kenyan by birth and aged 26. I was baptized and confirmed in Evangelical Lutheran Church in Kenya (ELCK), Arch Dioceses. My sponsors for baptism were Mr. and Mrs. Obare.

I believe in Martin Luther’s teachings and in Luther’s Small Catechism. My Christian faith is rooted on salvation by faith and grace alone. I believe that my salvation was made possible 100% by the work of Jesus Christ. I believe that I am saved by God's mercy and forgiveness and not by my works of righteousness to atone for my past or even by a personal action of deciding to follow Jesus. 

I believe that God created the universe and everything in it and that man disobeyed God's will and purposes through sin and in my rebellious and sinful condition I stand helpless and hopeless under God’s judgment.

I will never let you go

‘I am in love with you. I love you so much, I would give it all just for you. In good and bad times I promise to stand by your side with my sincere love.’ Mention these words and no one will go by without noticing, some with admiration and yet others with loath, jealousy or even get judgmental and rubbish you as a silly person.   Still, I am in love, deeply in love and it scares me. I feel I have been made soft as this love now runs through my whole system and control me like a marionette.

My old guy (grandpa) thinks any man in love is silly and girly. According to him a man should be driven by purpose, principles and objectivity, not emotions. He ascribes to the lot that believes your kinfolk (mostly an aunt) should help you choose, vet and decide on whom to tie the knot with in matrimony. And in this case the fundamental consideration is on tribe, family history and

Happy Father’s Day To You All

Certain topics are hard to cover, like a bad story they don’t carry laughter or good Any Things. This kind I always avoid and run away from with any little excuse I get my hands on. Take for instance the speed at which my laughter fades away amid a conversation whenever parents are mentioned. I hate snobs, they really irritate me, but if you are the kind of a person who will always talk of mums and dads, trust me am the worst snob you will ever meet. This however does not mean I never get caught in a situation. This Sunday will be Father’s day and there is no rat hole that will hide me from the festivities and mentions. At the church, they gave flowers to sons and daughters to give to their mother’s the other time and I am sure the same will go on this Father’s Sunday.

While conversing with my peers, out of nowhere someone usually mentions a parent, parental care or anything to do with parenting, and my happy mood uncontrollably falls to roots. It could be a football conversation, academics or even just a random talk; still someone will always find a way to press in the old folks play button. Having had a good experience with this I always try to drive the topic away out of my disliking; bring in a different story or excuse myself from the group whenever the latter doesn’t work. But when I am caged and no escape route or excuse seems available I recreate them. Yes recreate and talk of them as I would wish them alive.

In most instances I craft a rich dad with a reputable profession. I give him a high salary scale and a ward him big positions in large organization. In such illustration I talk of my dad as a young father; very